


A Date and a Promise

by likethenight



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve is very late indeed for his date with Peggy, but definitely better late than never.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Date and a Promise

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a thread on Tumblr that I jumped into about [here](http://nocompromise-noregrets.tumblr.com/post/26400686442/nocompromise-noregrets-cancerously), and by my frustration that most of the fics I've seen featuring present day Peggy assume that because she is now in her 90s she'll be either a) dead, b) senile and/or c) in a home. Old doesn't necessarily equal helpless; my grandma is three weeks away from her 94th birthday and still living in her own home, sharp as tacks and fit as a flea. So I decided to write something in which Peggy is still very much Peggy, just a little bit in honour of my own very awesome grandma.
> 
> With lots of love and thanks to the similarly awesome [DistortedDaytime](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DistortedDaytime/pseuds/DistortedDaytime) for the beta/US-picking. <3333

"Captain Rogers," says the man in the suit, "Agent Coulson wants to speak to you."

"Thank you, Agent," Steve says, automatically polite although he's wondering what Coulson might have to say to him that can't wait until the next time Steve visits. Coulson's in rehabilitation, recovering from the wound he took saving the world. Steve's been visiting him, sitting by his bedside, returning the favor that Coulson gave him. Or maybe returning the admiration. Or maybe, just maybe, a little bit of both. They haven't talked much - well, Coulson's been out cold for much of the time - but when they have, they've been carefully avoiding the subjects of SHIELD, heroes, saving the world, operations, and anything else that might turn into an awkward conversation.

Mostly they've talked about trivial things, popular culture, baseball, that sort of thing. Coulson's been filling Steve in on a little of the stuff he's missed during his seventy years as a - what did Stark call it? - a Capsicle.

Steve might have mentioned, once, that he'd had a date. 

He's been trying not to think about it. If he stops to let into his head all the thoughts about everyone from back then, everyone he's - well, no point beating about the bush - everyone he's lost, he's scared he'll just go crazy.

So he hasn't asked. It does occur to him that some of his friends, some of his brothers-in-arms might still be alive, but the thought of them being old, unrecognizable…that, he's not sure he can deal with. Maybe it's better to remember them as they were.

All of which means that he doesn't quite know what to say when Coulson, sitting by the window of his room in SHIELD's rehab center - well, of course they have a rehab center, given the number of agents who seem to come back in various states of disrepair from their missions all over the world, Steve still hasn't quite managed to get accustomed to how easy it is to get from one side of the planet to the other these days, not to mention how quickly SHIELD seem able to pull it off - anyway, when Coulson turns as Steve enters the room, and says, "Captain Rogers, would you like to meet anyone that you knew, back then? A few of your friends are still…"

"Alive?" Steve says, finishing Coulson's sentence for him, mostly to buy himself a bit of time to think about what Coulson's saying. Only - "Who?" he hears himself asking, and Coulson smiles a little hesitantly.

"Agent Carter," he says, gently.

"Peggy? She's…?"

"Alive and well, and living in England," Coulson says, completing Steve's sentence this time. 

"But…but why didn't anyone…?"

"Tell you?" Coulson fills in, and Steve thinks he's going to have to concede this match of let's-finish-sentences, because he's too busy trying to wrap his mind around what on earth he's going to say when Coulson finally asks if he'd like to see her. "I'm sorry, Captain. We were just finalizing contact with her when Loki pulled his little stunt. Then we all got a little bit distracted." He smiles, self-deprecatingly. "Agent Sitwell has only just seen fit to tell me that we have had a communication from Agent Carter. Apparently it was felt that I wasn't yet well enough to continue developing the contact. However, I am still your SHIELD liaison, and Director Fury seems to think that I'm the only one who should be handling such matters."

"You've heard from her?" asks Steve, not really registering the rest of what Coulson is saying, although he can't help noticing that the normally unflappable Agent has that slightly excited-puppy look in his eyes again. "What did she say?"

Coulson chuckles. "She said, 'Tell him he's late.' It seems that she saw you on the news. Would you like me to arrange for you to visit her?"

Steve doesn't hesitate this time, because if he hesitates he'll start thinking about it, and that would just be a bad thing all round. "Yes. Uh, yes please. Uhm. Could you…would you mind…uh, will you come with me?" He isn't sure he can handle it without Coulson's calm presence. All that supersonic flight, the big, loud modern world - it's bad enough in New York, but he can't quite imagine what it's like in England. He doesn't remember much about England, but he does retain an impression of calm beneath the hustle and bustle, something cool and controlled and older by far than anything he's felt in America. Steve isn't sure how he feels about the thought of that being swallowed up by the future in the way that New York has been. "I mean, if you're well enough," he remembers to put in, because if he knows anything about Coulson by now, it's that he'll do his utmost to do anything Steve asks of him.

"I believe I'm fit for a fairly non-strenuous mission," Coulson says with a smile. "I'll tell her we're on our way."

*

Steve meets Coulson at SHIELD's airfield just outside the city. Stark offered his private jet, but somehow Steve doesn't quite feel comfortable taking advantage of Tony's generosity, not just yet. He didn't feel it so strongly with Howard, because somehow Howard's unimaginable wealth didn't really intrude into their relationship - Steve's not sure if he can really call it 'friendship', but it was something more than a nodding acquaintance, certainly - because they were concentrating on something else entirely. With Tony, it's there all the time, ostentatious, almost vulgar, if it weren't for the ludicrous level of generosity that goes with it. Once Tony's decided you're a friend, it seems that he feels personally affronted if you think you're ever going to provide for yourself again. Steve just isn't sure yet how he can reconcile himself with that. Growing up with nothing has made him a strong believer in working for your own living, bettering yourself through hard work and earning your way. He isn't quite sure yet that he's earned anything much at all from Tony.

So Steve and Coulson take a SHIELD jet instead - not a quinjet, but something just as sleek and nearly as fast, if a lot more comfortable. They don't talk much, except when Steve asks whether Peggy had said anything when Coulson told her they were coming.

"She said, 'Good. He owes me a dance,'" Coulson reports with a smile, and Steve can't help laughing, over the butterflies doing their own dance in his stomach. She sounds as though she hasn't changed a bit - at least, not in the ways that count, and he's feeling his nerves easing just the tiniest bit. 

There's a car to take them from the private landing strip, and once they're away from the big, industrial hangars, Steve begins to feel a bit reassured about England, too. It's still 'green and pleasant', although the highways they take are broad and busy - but still nothing like the highways that have sprung up all across America. 

Peggy lives in a small town, and when the car pulls up outside a spacious, detached house, Steve is a little confused - somehow he'd been expecting one of those 'homes' he's heard people talking about. He'd developed some awful vision of hospitals for the elderly, everyone herded in there once they reached a certain age. Steve remembers when people stayed in their own homes and their neighbors looked out for them. He and Bucky used to make sure the old couple on the ground floor of their building were all right, and they'd get groceries for them if they couldn't do it themselves. He thinks that's a nicer way of doing it, and when the front door opens and there's a white-haired lady standing in the doorway, at first he's so relieved to see that Peggy's still in her own house that he doesn't realize that actually, this _is_ Peggy. Then she smiles, and calls out, "Captain Rogers!" in a voice that's maybe a bit thinner but is still clear and ringing, like a bell, and he's already striding towards her, Coulson forgotten behind him.

He's in front of her in only a few strides, and then he's brought up short, because here she is and she's still Peggy, but she's _old_ , and well yeah, genius, what did you expect (and why is it that his inner voice of sarcasm sounds a lot like Tony Stark?), but the sudden juxtaposition is slightly too much for him all of a sudden. There she is, and now he's close to her he can see just how old she is, the lines on her face and the slight tremor betraying the effort it's taking to keep her back ramrod straight. And here he is, just as much of a big lummox as he ever was, because he hasn't even spoken to her yet and he can't think what to say.

So he salutes instead, and somehow that unlocks his tongue, and he manages to say, "Agent Carter," and what an idiot he is, but she just laughs, a gentle old-lady laugh that still has the musical sound of her youth behind it. And she salutes him too, and that seems to be enough. "I'm sorry I'm late, ma'am," he says, feeling a little bit more at ease, hiding behind the formalities just for a moment or two. 

"So you should be, Captain," Peggy says. "Won't you come in? I've made tea." She smiles warmly as she greets Coulson, still standing at a discreet distance as always. "Agent Coulson, it's so lovely to see you again," she says. "I trust you're fully recovered?"

"I'm on the mend, ma'am," Coulson says with an answering smile. "But if you don't mind, I'll wait outside."

Considerate as always. Steve is beginning to realize how much he's come to value Coulson, to rely on him, and he finds himself thinking that he ought to find a way of thanking him for all his help. For now, though, he just smiles, and follows Peggy into her house.

They sit in her living room, and Peggy pours the tea. The room is homely, tastefully furnished, not too cluttered, and Steve realizes that it's just exactly the sort of place he'd imagined Peggy to have - or would have done, if he'd been thinking about it at all since he woke up, which he's been trying not to do. There are a few framed photographs, but he tries not to look too closely, not sure if he really wants to see the family she's had without him.

"You've met Agent Coulson before?" he asks, to have something to say.

"He came to see me a few months ago. He told me they'd found you, and you were alive. I must admit I didn't know what to think at first, but when I thought about it properly it made sense. Nobody really knew what that serum would do, after all." She smiles, sipping her tea. "And then there was all that business in New York, and I saw you with my own eyes, on the television news. And I knew it was true."

Steve is quietly stunned at how well she seems to be taking it, although he supposes that she's had a long time to get used to the crazy way the world seems to work, especially these days. 

"I kind of feel that way myself," he admits. "It's all so strange. One minute there's you, and Howard, and Colonel Phillips, and the next…well. Everything's changed, and there's no you, no Howard, just…well, I guess you saw us on the news, you know how crazy it is. Me, a Norse god, a mild-mannered guy with a monster inside him, a Russian spy, the best marksman I've ever seen, and Howard's son. And somehow we're a team." He can't help smiling. "Or we're learning how to be. It's not like the old days, not just yet, but they're good people, and great to have at your back."

"I'm glad," Peggy says. "I'm glad they're looking after you. And Howard's boy, what's he like? I've seen him on television, of course, but that's no substitute."

"He's just like Howard, you know that air he always had, that no matter what anyone said, he was the big cheese around here," Steve says with a laugh. "But very different at the same time. I can't put my finger on it, but he's a good man under all the noise. Just like Howard."

Peggy nods slowly. "Howard looked for you, you know. He kept on looking, to the end of his days."

"I know," says Steve, and he still isn't sure if he's sad or relieved that Howard is no longer around; he doesn't know if he could bear the awkwardness in meeting him face to face again, knowing the lengths to which he'd gone to bring Steve back, dead or alive. Somehow Tony is easier to handle, it's easier to deal with the nameless emotion in the pit of his stomach, the twisting knot of guilt-shame-pride-gratitude-bewilderment, at one generation's remove. "Seems like SHIELD took it on, and I guess they were the best people to do it, but I've got to admit it's nicer not living in their quarters any more. Felt a bit too much like a lab rat, even though they're good people. So they got me an apartment in Brooklyn, and I spend a lot of time at Tony's tower with the others."

"But you've got them to look out for you if you need them to. It's good for a soldier to have that command structure still in place."

"I guess it is. I guess I'd be lost without that." Steve hasn't thought about it that way before, but she's right - even if he's learning that his commanding officers don't always show their full hand, and that a leader like Nick Fury is not at all above manipulating his troops if he feels it necessary. Seems like the days of straightforward military men are gone - or maybe not, just that there aren't many of those in SHIELD. He still doesn't know what to make of Fury, but Coulson has been a rock.

"And they do have their uses. Agent Coulson gave me this when he visited me," Peggy says, pulling a SHIELD-issue tablet out from under the coffee table; somehow Steve isn't at all surprised. "He said that I should feel free to contact him at any time. And so, after I saw you on the news, I felt I had to send him a message. I had no idea he'd been so badly hurt, but I'm very glad to see that he's looking so much better."

"He gave us all a scare, yeah," Steve says, playing it down; he doesn't think that Phil would like him to make a fuss. "We're very pleased to have him back to active duty." Then he realizes how he sounds, just exactly as though he's reporting back to his commanding officer, and he gives himself a mental kick. "He's a great guy. He looks after us real well. Me especially." He gives Peggy a shy smile. "I'm not exactly up to speed with what's going on in the world, not just yet."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't be," she says. "But it's all right, I'm sure you remember things just fine." She gives him a wicked smile. "Like promises you made, for instance?"

"Oh. Oh yes, ma'am, I remember those," he says, because it was the first thing he thought of when he woke up, the date he'd made with Peggy, the promise to go dancing, and to try not to tread on her toes too many times. He puts his teacup down, standing up and offering her his hand. "I don't know if you have any music, but may I have the pleasure of this dance?"

Peggy laughs, letting him help her up and then going over to the cabinet in the corner, opening the lid to reveal a record player with a disc already on the turntable. She sets it going, and the unmistakable sound of Glenn Miller fills the air as Peggy steps into his arms and they begin to dance, slowly and carefully, for the first time. She feels absurdly small and frail in his embrace, but he finds it's easy to follow the steps with her, and he feels as comfortable with her as if this were the Stork Club and he hadn't really missed that date.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance," she says, looking up at him, and he blushes.

"I may have asked a friend for some lessons," he admits with a sheepish smile. "I didn't want to come over here and stand on your toes." And so far, Natasha's instruction (well, he had to ask someone, and Natasha seemed more likely to know than Agent Hill - and she'd turned out to be an excellent teacher) seems to have taken effect because he really isn't treading on Peggy's feet or falling over his own. Sure, Natasha had threatened to put her stiletto heels through his feet if he stood on hers, but she'd been smiling when she said it and he _thought_ she hadn't really meant it. 

They dance through _In The Mood_ and _Pennsylvania 6-5000_ and _Moonlight Serenade_ , and then they sit down again. Steve can tell that Peggy's tired, but he can't quite bear to leave her just yet, and so he asks her, now that he thinks he can handle it, what she did after the war.

"I worked for the Government," she says, "intelligence and counter-intelligence, that sort of thing. I got married in 1952, and I had children, a boy and a girl. When they were old enough to go to school I went back to work, just for a few hours a week, because I was so bored around the house on my own. The bosses weren't sure they liked it, but I didn't give them much choice." Another musical laugh. "And my children grew up and had children of their own, and one of those has children of _his_ own now. I'm a great-grandmother, would you believe? And yet I still don't feel any older than the last time I saw you." She gestures down at herself with hands knotted and worn with age. "Sometimes I wonder to myself, what on earth happened to all that time? My husband died four years ago - Jim, his name was, you'd have liked him - and since then I've been on my own. My neighbours pop in, though, and I have friends who take me to church and out to the shops. And I have my health. I'm a lucky woman." She smiles again. "Luckier still that my date turned out not to have abandoned me after all. Thank you for coming, Steve. I've missed you very much."

Steve can't quite find the words to say to that, so he just reaches out and takes her hands, still a little bit confused by the sight of his big hands around her frail fingers, and they sit there for a while in companionable silence, maybe the first peaceful moment they've ever had.

And when the time comes to go, Steve finds himself wrapping her up in a rather awkward hug, not wanting to leave her behind again after all this time.

"You take care of yourself, saving the world," she says. "And come back and see me. I feel like there's a few years left in me yet."

"Oh, I will, ma'am," Steve says. "That's a promise."

"And a date?" she asks, that mischievous smile on her lips again.

"It's a promise and a date," he says. "And this time I'm not going to make you wait seventy years."

"You'd better not," she tells him, steel in her voice, and it occurs to him that really, she hasn't changed at all. He doesn't feel nervous any more, or out of his depth, because Peggy is still Peggy, and so maybe there's something right still left in the world.


End file.
